Leap Home
by slyprentice
Summary: Dr. Rodney McKay never thought that leaving the Stargate Program for Project Quantum Leap would change his life, but it does, in more ways than one. Stargate Atlantis and Quantum Leap. Slash.


**Title**: Leap Home  
**Author**: Prentice  
**Rating**: M  
**Fandom**: Stargate Atlantis/Quantum Leap  
**Pairings**: Rodney/John; Sam/Al  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything other than this particular story idea; everything else, I'm just playing with. :)

**Author's Note**: I've been a fan of QL and SGA for years but was always bollocks at writing for either of them. Then, a few months ago, I had a thought: what if I combine the two, maybe that would help? And so, Leap Home was born. It's still rough (and unbeta'd) but I thought I'd post it in order to get opinions so hopefully, it's not too terrible. Also, story updates will be a bit slow.

**Story Notes:** (1) Rodney McKay is a difficult man to write - he always has been and always will be - so forgive any and all OCness. (2) This Rodney McKay strayed from the Stargate Program _years _before the trip to Atlantis was even a glimmer in Daniel's eye and so, is a different kind of person (still snarky). (3) Project Quantum Leap and the Stargate Program work in parallel to one another; never crossing paths and for the most part, unaware of each other. Until now.

**Summary**: Dr. Rodney McKay never thought that leaving the Stargate Program for Project Quantum Leap would change his life, but it does, in more ways than one.

* * *

**July 05, 2004  
Project Quantum Leap Main Building  
Stallion's Gate, New Mexico**

Dr. Rodney McKay stepped out of the elevator, fingers twitching at his sides as he glanced irritably at the row of snack and soda machines lining the far wall. He'd been in search of them for the last half hour; stopping at each level in the underground building and prowling its corridors like a bloodhound in search of its prey. Already he'd become annoyingly familiar with all six levels below and was beginning to wonder if the damn things were even _in_ the building despite the assurances from various and sundry staff and project members.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Rodney glared balefully at the 'Out of Order' signs taped haphazardly onto the closest two machines, stomach rumbling in protest. "Figures," he grumbled, stuffing a hand into his pants pocket for the crumpled dollar bills he'd stashed there for this sole purpose. The sandwich machine was out – it figured – but at least he could get some chips and candy, maybe a soda or two if he had enough. Anything to keep him from passing out from the hunger that was gnawing at his belly.

"What do I want, what do I want," he mumbled to himself, fingers tugging and smoothing the bills absently. Fritos? Baked Layes? A Snickers? A frosted cherry sweet roll?

Eyeing the last dubiously, he rocked back on his heels, giving one last hard tug to a dollar before shrugging his shoulders and feeding it to the machine. Whatever he chose – it didn't matter – he was too hungry to care. Tapping his fingers against his thighs impatiently, Rodney glowered at the machine as it feed his wrinkled dollar back to him.

"Don't you dare," the astrophysicist snarled, rapping his knuckles sharply against the thin Plexiglas separating him from his snacks before plucking the bill back and rubbing it forcefully against the corner of the vending machine. It had been hours since his last meal; breakfast to be exact and that hadn't even been all that great. Just a muffin, apple cinnamon, and a large pot of coffee that he'd abused thoroughly.

"Now, you're going to take this dollar and you're going to like it, or so help me you're going out the damn window." Jamming the dollar back into the machine, he smirked ferociously as it feed in easily. "Good, keep it up."

Patting the side of the vendor absently, the scientist scanned the contents, fingers hovering over the control panel. C3 or A8? Or, maybe B1, that looked pretty good. "Maybe –"

"Do you always talk to your food, Rodney, or is this something new?" An amused voice asked behind him, making him jump and his fingers bang against the panel. A second later, an abused looking package of Ding Dongs slowly made its way to the front of its mental prongs, dropping into the bottom of the door catch.

"Damnit, Beckett!" Rodney snapped, turning to glare at the other scientist. "I hate Ding Dongs! They're disgusting!"

Dr. Samuel Beckett smiled, brown eyes warm with amusement beneath the fringe of his coffee colored hair. "Good thing I was here, then," he replied easily, side-stepping around Rodney and stooping to pull the mashed treat from within the door catch. "They've always been a favorite of mine."

Rodney snorted, rubbing his stinging fingers against his side as he watched the other man open the package and a pull a piece of iced chocolate cupcake out. "Since when? Just now?"

"Something like that." The processed chocolate cake disappeared into the man's mouth, a spot of icing smearing at the corners. Rodney pulled a face, turning his back on the man.

"Did you come here for a reason or just to bother me?" He asked abrasively, eyes once again pursuing the vending machine contents as he fed another dollar in. Maybe he should just get the iced cherry sweet roll. It'd probably be stale – how often did they change these things anyway? – but at least it would be more filling than a candy bar and push his blood sugar somewhere from nonexistent to bearable.

There was a crinkle of plastic behind him. "Well, I just got back from a meeting, but I think I could make an exception for you, if you like. You're the reason I'm _here_ in the first place."

"Don't remind me," Rodney muttered, punching the keypad – A3; iced cherry sweet roll. Another crinkle of plastic, the scuffling sound of shoes against linoleum, and then a warm hand settled on his shoulder, cupping it gently. Rodney froze, staring hard at the metal prongs that rotated slowly before dropping the packaged treat.

"I mean it." The teasing tone of voice was gone, as was the amusement. "I wouldn't be here without you; without your help. I couldn't have – have – come _home_ without you and –"

"Stop," Rodney broke in sharply, stomach tightening. "Please. I just came here to get a snack, not get indigestion." Feeding another dollar into the machine, he shifted, the hand on his shoulder sliding away. "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

The presence behind him was silent as he punched in B6 – a bag of Fritos – and leaned down to pick out his two snacks.

"…you're never going to let me thank you, are you?"

Rodney sighed, turning again to look witheringly at the man before him. "It's been a year. You can _stop_ thanking me." He tore open the chip bag, dumping a small handful into his mouth. "That's how you can thank me," he mumbled through a mouthful of corn chips.

"I can thank you by not thanking you?" Sam asked, some of the previous amusement shining in his eyes.

"Yes," Rodney nodded, shaking out another handful of chips into his hand. "Exactly. Wouldn't want all this flattery going to my head, would you?" The chips definitely weren't going to be enough. He ripped open the sweet roll. "Between you, Admiral Calavicci, and Ziggy, I think I've had more than enough thanks."

That was annoyingly true. From the moment that Sam Beckett had leaped back into Project Quantum Leap's nuclear accelerator chamber, looking ragged and confused but happy to be home, the thanks he'd received hadn't really stopped. Even a year gone, with Sam happy, healthy, and, most importantly, home did the thanks ever seem to slow down.

It had been flattering at first. To be so highly praised and exulted for the three long years of hard work he'd put into Project Quantum Leap from the moment he'd walked through the doors. Working endlessly with PQL's lead programmer, Gushie and Ziggy, the supercomputer that Dr. Beckett had designed during his time in the Starbright Project, of which he knew next to nothing about, Rodney had put in more hours than any one man save for Dr. Beckett and the Admiral.

It had been a difficult road back then; hard and bumpy, with very few joys on it save for those last few months when he had worked tirelessly with reels of data from some of Beckett's own drafts, knowing instinctively that something was there, in those papers, that would lead him to the final solution and bring Samuel Beckett – a man he had never met and knew only through his work – home.

Not even while working in the Stargate Program at Stargate Command or Area 51 had Rodney felt such a deep sense of satisfaction in his work. Sure, he'd been directly involved in some of the greatest discovers and experimentations of the known universe, but to work and succeed in bending time and space and the Fates to his will to bring back another person – it was empowering. Liberating, even.

For the astrophysicist, working at PQL was an unrealized dream made reality, and he owed that to Admiral Calavicci – the man whom had recruited him – and Dr. Beckett. Both men, in their own ways, had given Rodney a chance to do what he might have never gotten the chance of back at the SGC: to work assisted and unobstructed, without having to answer to anyone but Admiral Calavicci, himself, and now, Sam Beckett. Even with the governmental funding, no one but those two could boot Rodney out of the project.

Chewing mindlessly on his mouthful, Rodney allowed himself a moment to study the other man. Dr. Samuel Beckett wasn't what he had been expecting. With seven doctoral degrees to his name, the man was a vertebral treasure trove of knowledge, ideas, and experience, all leading Rodney to believe that it was an older man – maybe the Admiral's age – bouncing around the past and righting what once went wrong. He hadn't expected – Sam.

A brown eyed farm boy at heart, the man alternated between being strangely shy to world weary in a matter of seconds. The fact that the man was only a decade and some change older than

himself but still managed to look like a wounded puppy didn't help the situation either and he soon found that one bit of thanks in the beginning was more than enough.

At least that way he could get some work done and not have to worry about 'tripping' over one of the three stooges in their 'rush' to thank him.

"Look," Rodney sighed, edging his way back towards the elevator. "I appreciate the thanks, Dr. Beckett, but like I said: it's been a year. You don't have to thank me. I was doing what the Admiral hired me to do."

A soft look fluttered across Sam's face at mention of the Admiral, his cheeks and neck flushing red. Rodney resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't take a genius of his caliber to figure out what _that _was about, even if Beckett seemed astoundingly dense on the subject.

"Anyway," he continued, foregoing politeness to stuff another piece of roll into his mouth. "Speaking of work, unlike you, I _do_ have some to do. I wanted to do some calibrations on the imaging and accelerator chambers. Ziggy mentioned some strange readings that I -"

"What strange readings?" Beckett's voice was whipcord sharp between them, startling Rodney enough to make him pause in his snail shuffle towards the elevators. "Are they serious?

Rodney frowned, shaking his head slightly even as he shrugged. "I'm not sure. My best guess would be because of these storms we've been having." A low rumble of thunder accentuated his words, making his lips twist ruefully.

Summer storms had been battering the New Mexico city of Stallion's Gate for days now. The combination of unbearably hot days and cool nights making for an almost perfect storm producing atmosphere. It was amazing, really, that this was the first time the PQL's systems had been affected by the weather.

"Electrical interference?" Sam prompted impatiently. The man's eyes were dark and intense, as though Rodney's answer was a matter of life and death. The astrophysicist had never seen him like this.

"Possibly," Rodney began, frown deepening. "I left Gushie running some diagnostics on Ziggy's internal processors while I came up here." He waved the partially eaten snacks in the air, "I figured it'd be a long night."

That was an understatement and they both knew it. Running diagnostics on a nearly sentient supercomputer like Ziggy would take hours, possibly even the rest of the night, thanks to the redundancy of certain routing systems and the sheer size of others. There were also safety protocols that were slowly being instated or augmented into the system in order to assure that what happened to Sam wouldn't happen again.

Of course, Rodney mused sourly, that didn't mean they were all online or without flaws. Many of them had been created right after Sam's first leap and were rudimentary at best; hastily put together and thrown into the system with the proverbial duct tape and a dream handling. The others, ones that came later due to trail and error or Rodney's own course of study, were ones from after the last leap home, and were still far too new to be fully integrated into the system without further testing.

Testing that Rodney would be doing now, if it wasn't for the glitch in readings. Blowing out a sigh, the scientist stared at Beckett's normally boyish features, which looked strangely pinched and pale, and hesitated before saying, as gently as he was capable, "I don't think they're anything serious."

This time he didn't wait for a response before hurrying to the elevators.

* * *

To Be Continued...


End file.
